


Out of the Badlands

by wordslinger



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Blood and Violence, F/M, Miraxus, Organized Crime, jerza - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-06 05:05:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15879141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordslinger/pseuds/wordslinger
Summary: Erza hadn’t been anything before Jellal. Just a girl with half a name and nothing to it anyway. She’d loved him once – she still loved him. Enough to stop him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The original version of this can be found as Chapter 9 of [Of All the Things I've Lost](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14403924/chapters/35124008). This is _not_ an Into the Badlands AU. I just lifted a few lines of dialog from a scene between Quinn and Lydia that I super duper loved. I have made some big-ish changes from the original version of the one-shot. I think it's better now.

_i._

* * *

 

            The warehouse was mostly dark, which was to be expected given the hour. She needed his full attention and she needed him alone. Erza’s heeled boots echoed off the walls and high ceilings as she made her way across the main floor to the stairs that would take her up to his private office. How many times had she been in that office over the years? Hundreds? Thousands? Erza ran her finger over the cherry paint of one of his cars. A BMW that, up until two days prior, had been marked with white racing stripes. She was a little surprised the car wasn’t covered – but Jellal had been surprising her for months now, hadn’t he? He’d gone right over the edge and hung there by a thread.

            Erza wanted to fix all that. She _could._

            A quick glance up to the office loft revealed his shadowed silhouette against the glass. She felt his eyes on her as she neared the staircase. Erza used to like being watched. The feel of his eyes on her as she worked the business end of the kingdom they’d built from scraps used to excite her. His gaze made her feel confident. _Competent._ He made her feel like even the things she did behind closed doors were right. Erza hadn’t been anything before Jellal. Just a girl with half a name and nothing to it anyway. She’d loved him once – she still loved him. Enough to _stop_ him.

            The office door wasn’t even locked. He should’ve locked it. Erza sighed and added _sloppy_ to the list of his recent shortcomings. Her eyes scrutinized the office harshly. It never used to be so messy. Scattered papers covered the floor, cigarette butts in Styrofoam fast food cups littered the surface of his desk, the light bulb in the lamp flickered, and his laptop screensaver bathed the room in a dancing pink and purple glow. When she finally stood only a few feet away, Erza folded her hands in front of her. He’d showered but not completely dressed. She pursed her lips at the state of his hipbones and the way his pants hung too low for comfort but said nothing. He was _skinny._ Jellal had always been lean but this… it was too much. She couldn’t let it go on.

            “Have you come to read me my rights?” he said easily, poking a cigarette between his lips. She watched him light it and exhale the first toxic cloud of smoke from his lungs.

            “What rights?” she asked with a smirk. “I’m not a cop.”

            “I know that.” He flicked the ash from the tip of his cigarette to no place in particular. The grey clump landed on the windowsill. “But that’s what this has come to, hasn’t it?”

            “Jellal –”

            “I’d have burned this whole fucking place to the ground once,” he whispered. “Just to see you smile like you meant it.”

            “And then where would we be?”

            “Happier maybe?”

            “Maybe.” Erza stepped into his personal space and plucked the cigarette from between his fingers. She turned her gaze to the warehouse below. The BMW’s red paint caught her eye again and she tapped the cigarette against her lips. “If a car is made of stolen parts does that make the car itself stolen?”

            “You and your philosophical questions.” Jellal’s voice was soft. She scanned it over and over in her head looking for sharp edges or perhaps a shred of the violent, paranoid lunacy he’d been slipping into as of late. “You never used to ask me stuff like that.”

            “I never thought I had to.” Erza blew out a lungful of smoke that bounced off the glass and back into her face. “It was just supposed to be the cars,” she whispered.

            “Things change, Erza. _You_ know that just as well as I do.”

            “I kept quiet about the drugs. I never said a word as long as I didn’t see it. You can’t just openly feud with Ivan like this. It’s too violent.” She squashed the spent cigarette on the windowsill and spun on him. “You’re out of control.”

            “Erza –”

            “Are you gonna to tell me you’re fine?” she interrupted with more sharpness than intended. Her heart was betraying her already. She needed to be stronger. “Or that this is who you’ve always been?”

            “Maybe it is. I’ve never felt more like myself than I do right now.”

            “We never used to lie to each other, Jellal.”

            “I’m not the liar in this room, Erza.” His words weren’t just a deflection. They were true. In _every way_ they were true. She’d promised herself never to have regrets but now they were gathering at her gates and she couldn’t hold them off.

            “This war is pointless.” She inched closer to him. He smelled like cigarette smoke and the Doublemint gum she knew he still kept in the lap drawer of his desk. “You can’t win, Jellal.”

            “I _can.”_

            “You should’ve –”

            “Realized my place?” he hissed, finally snapping. “Should I have been content to know I was a bottom level supplier? Should I have been cool just bending over the trunk of any one of those fucking cars down there every time Dreyar told me to? In front of everyone?” His words stung her in a place she didn’t like to think about. _No regrets._

            “Those are your words, not mine.”

            “But it’s what you mean.”

            Erza sighed. “Jellal –”

            “You know, you’ve changed too, Erza. You used to be my right arm. I never made any decisions without you. The garage looked to me, and I looked to _you.”_ He took her hands and slid his palms over her wrists, and arms before settling on her shoulders. “But it’s been a long time.”

            “You’re an idiot.” She didn’t take his bait, but the regrets she’d denied for so long were chanting her name. His thumbs slid over the sides of her neck, and she felt the tips of his fingers tangle in her hair. “You were always convinced this city was a mountain you had to climb. And that’s bullshit, Jellal. It’s fucking bullshit. You never _think!_ ”

            He smiled. It was a little bit sad and a little bit unhinged. “I wouldn’t have had any time in the sun if not for you. You were always too good for this. Too smart. Too fair.” His lips brushed over hers, and Erza knew she’d lost herself.

            “When we were on the same page –”

            “Everything was in control,” he finished for her, cutting off the confession that lurked on the tip of her tongue. “You always spoke your mind no matter how harsh or cruel. You did what needed to be done without permission or apology. What happened?”

            “I don’t care about anyone else but _you_ ,” she whispered against his mouth. “The rest of them can rot.”

            “Is that why you brought a gun?”

            Erza froze and he laughed, almost too quietly. Jellal kissed her and despite everything she enjoyed it.

            “I’m not hurt, Erza. I knew you would. The feds won’t take you in without me.” He pulled back only a breath. “Isn’t that right? Wasn’t that the deal?”

            “It’s a new life,” she whispered. “I want out. Don’t you?”

            “I want _you.”_ Jellal kissed her again with a genuine urgency she never thought to miss. She hadn’t realized they’d been moving until her backside bumped the edge of his desk. With one arm around her waist, Jellal shoved everything over the side. Stale soda and rank cigarette butts spilled across the floor. He lifted her to the edge and slid between her thighs.

            Erza lost herself in the past. A lifetime of shared kisses and whispers and gasps and sighs. _Promises._ So many promises. All of the words they’d shared in the small space between his mouth and hers threatened to choke her. Feathered between the honey sweet were the barbs. The lies. The secrets. The closed doors.

            He didn’t even flinch at the pistol she had strapped to her thigh. In two heartbeats he left the pistol on the desktop and tossed her panties aside. He could still make her tremble and bite her lip in fantastic ecstasy. When he finished inside of her, Erza thought to shove him away but didn’t. She tightened her thighs around his waist and _wished._ She made a wish and took a breath.

            Before her words could come spilling out, Jellal took her hand and placed the pistol in it.

            “Do it,” he whispered. “Do what you came to do.”

            “I didn’t come to –”

            “No more lies.” Jellal kissed her again and closed his hand around hers. When he moved back his pants were still hanging open and every tattoo on his body shone like some kind of horrible magic. “Let’s not lie to each other. Not now.”

            “I didn’t!” Erza felt a tear on her cheek. “I came to –”

            “They’ll never take me alive, love.”

            Every molecule of breath in her lungs rushed out. He hadn’t called her that in a very long time.

            “Jellal, _please.”_

            “Do it, Erza.” He pressed the barrel of the gun against his right pectoral and the most elaborate of his tattoos – an expertly shaded black and white fairy woman with a crown of thorns. “I want you to.”

            Erza was well acquainted with Jellal’s many moods. She knew when he was tired or hungry. She knew when the dark clouds were gathering over his head, and she knew when his heart was light – those were always the days when he’d kiss her cheek and tell her he loved her.

            His grip on her hand that held the pistol tightened, and Erza dragged herself from her memories. _This_ Jellal had the wild eyes of a man not altogether well. Erza felt her finger twitching on the trigger.

            “I just wanted out. If you won’t come with me then –” She poked him harder in the chest with the barrel.

            “Ah,” he breathed, reaching out to touch her cheek. “This is why I always loved _you_ first. So fearless.”

            “I want out.” Erza felt a lump of ice settle in her chest. “I want you, too, but –”

            “You can’t have both.”

            “I can’t have _either_ without you!” Her words echoed off the walls of the office loft and her hand trembled.

            Erza had never seen so much blood in her life.

* * *

 

            Rain pelted the windshield of the cherry red BMW. She’d slid more than once already taking turns too fast. Two thoughts pounded her skull. Firstly, she needed to ditch the flashy car but not until she put some distance between herself and the warehouse. She didn’t think the agents would give her a moment more than the time they’d agreed on.

            And second?

            Erza glanced over at the passenger seat. She bit her lip so hard she could taste blood again. _What a mess._

* * *

 

            She left the BMW behind an abandoned gas station just beyond the suburbs. On impulse, she tossed her phone into a barrel of oily rags. She didn't need a tail, and she knew the federal agents she'd flounced would be on to her by now.

            The replacement car was an old station wagon wheezing its last breaths. Erza told herself she only needed it to work as far as the next town over. There was a guy with a small garage who owed her a favor. Erza’s eyes slid to the rearview mirror.

            “Don’t you fucking die on me,” she whispered.


	2. Chapter 2

_ii._

* * *

 

            Outside the city limits, the rain was heavier. There were no buildings to stop the cascade of water from drenching the station wagon, and Erza learned very quickly how unsuitable the car truly was. The front passenger window wouldn’t roll up all the way. Droplets splashed her arm and chilled her to the bone. She considered pulling over and rearranging her cargo so his face wasn’t in the spray but decided maybe he deserved it a little. Maybe it would keep him alive. The steering wheel was rough with peeling bits of an old cover, and she hoped the windshield wiper blades wouldn’t disintegrate before reaching their destination.

            Slowly the landscape changed from rural homesteads to the dotted civilization of a small town. Erza passed through the main drag and, for the first time since ditching the BMW, was grateful for the slower pace the station wagon required. Without the mechanical limitation, she might've blown past any number of small town cops itching for something to do on a rainy Thursday night.

            The sound of a foot jerking against the backseat passenger door startled her, and her fingers tightened on the wheel. Jellal groaned softly. Erza couldn’t spare him a glance, though. Her eyes were glued to the road. Their destination wasn’t easily visible mid-day, much less at night during a storm. Another strangled sound clawed its way from his throat, and he shifted on the bench seat. She thought she heard the mangled vowel sounds of her name.

            “I’m sorry,” Erza whispered, finally catching sight of the narrow side street she’d been looking for. “Just hang on. We’re almost there.”

            The car leaned into the turn gracelessly. Jellal’s boot thumped against the floorboard. She nearly jumped out of her skin when a hand closed around her shoulder. His fingers, sticky with blood, tangled in her wet hair.

            “Erza–” he gasped. The sound of his voice was like a fist cracking against bone. Erza’s breath came in spurts and she tried to focus on the road. When his hand went limp again and fell away, his fingers pulled a number of scarlet hairs from her scalp. The exhale of breath that followed was somewhere between a gurgle and a grunt. Erza took a chance and glanced over her shoulder. His face was pale and damp, and his body shook. The backseat was stained with blood.

            “Jellal?” Her tone was commanding but his face slackened. Erza panicked. _“Jellal?”_

            When he didn’t respond she whipped her head back around and jammed her foot on the gas. The station wagon whined and the tires played at hydroplaning. Erza jerked the wheel to the right and tore into the three-car wide stretch of cement outside of Laxus’s garage.

            The badly painted sign was faded and hadn’t been replaced since before he’d bought the place out from under the previous owner. Only the left bay was open with maybe three feet of clearance. Dim yellow light fanned out from beneath it. The station wagon skidded into a row of steel barrels holding back stacks of old tires. Jellal groaned and slumped against the door on impact and Erza flinched as the tires tumbled against the windshield.

            _“Fuck,”_ she whispered, clumsily poking at the seatbelt release. “Jellal?” When she turned and climbed over the seat, her knees were instantly wet with blood. His cheeks were clammy and his chest frighteningly pale. “Stay here, okay?”

            Erza fumbled the door handle and nearly tripped out of the station wagon into the rain. She ran for the garage door and pounded her open palm against the sections of heavy metal. The clang was deafening.

            “Laxus!” she screamed. Her voice was nearly drowned out against the sound of thunder and the clang of the garage door panels. _“Laxus!”_

            Erza jumped when a hand closed around her wrist. She gasped and turned. A woman in a bright pink raincoat was speaking, but Erza couldn’t focus on her words until she felt the woman’s fingernails digging into her skin and between her bones.

            “Erza, what’s –”

            “I need help, Mira,” Erza managed between heaving breaths. “It’s Jellal. He’s –”

            “What’s wrong?” Mirajane’s eyes narrowed and she pulled Erza closer. “What’s going on? Does Laxus know you’re here?”

            “No, no, I didn’t call. I just–” Erza shook her head. _“Please,_ Mirajane. I need help with Jellal. He's been shot!"

            _“What?”_

            Erza twisted free of Mirajane’s grasp and took her hand. She pulled her across the pavement and to the open car door. Jellal somehow looked worse. Mirajane gasped. She pushed past Erza and immediately crawled into the backseat. Her fingers pressed against his wrist and then his neck. When she turned back to Erza over her shoulder, her expression was hard.

            “Go get Laxus. He’s probably upstairs. Just roll under the door and _get Laxus!”_

            Erza sprinted back toward the open garage door. She dropped to the pavement and rolled. The only light inside the garage came from the hanging lamp in between the lifts. Erza realized she had no idea where to go. She’d never been beyond the bays. A hallway shrouded in darkness caught her eye and Erza headed toward it. At the end of the hallway she could see a closed door and a set of stairs but before she made it even halfway the sound of a shotgun round clicking into place stopped her. Erza froze.

            “Who are you?” A craggy voice demanded. “What the fuck are you doing in here?”

            Erza raised her hands and slowly turned to face the voice. “I’m looking for Laxus.” She recognized Makarov immediately, but the distrust in his eyes hurt her heart. _This_ was why Laxus wanted out so badly. And she’d brought it all right back to his front porch. “Please –”

            “Goddamn trespassers comin’ in here–”

            “Hey!” Laxus boomed from the end of the hallway. Suddenly the narrow passage was flooded with fluorescent light. “Put the shotgun down, old man. It’s just – what the _fuck?”_ Erza didn’t need to turn to know he’d seen the blood on her knees and hands. “Better start explaining, Scarlet. It’s late and the old man is armed.”

            “It’s Jellal,” she whispered, her throat threatening to close. “I shot him.”

            Laxus’s jaw twitched. “You _what?”_

            “I _shot_ Jellal!” She didn’t recognize her own voice. “Mira saw us outside and she sent me in here to get you.” Erza held out her palms but her hands shook uncontrollably. “Please, Laxus. _Help me.”_

            “Fuck,” he muttered, pushing past her and snatching the shotgun from Makarov’s grip. “Fuck!”

            “I’m –”

            “Not now, Scarlet.”

            Erza glanced at Makarov once before following Laxus back down the hallway. He yanked on a padlock and threw the whole of the door upward. On any other day she might’ve cracked a joke about how he’d always been freakishly strong, but now was not the time for jokes.

            Mirajane barked orders and Laxus followed them without comment. Erza thought maybe Jellal flinched when the bay door boomed closed. His body was limp in Laxus’s arms and she nearly lost herself to her tears when she noticed his boots were untied. Such a ridiculous detail broke her heart.

            The room at the end of the hallway turned out to be a kitchen. Despite the garage’s dated outward appearance, everything in the kitchen was matching stainless steel. Makarov waited in the corner. He’d parked his wheelchair near a low table and in his lap was a box Erza could only guess at.

            “Erza!” Mirajane snapped. “I need you to assist me. Laxus’s fingers are too big.”

            “Too big for what?” Erza whispered. She watched Mirajane shove packages of paper napkins and plates to the floor. Jellal’s body looked even more lifeless as Laxus laid him out across the surface.

            “I couldn’t find an exit wound. The bullet has to come out.”

            “But –”

            “You missed the subclavian artery but only by a fraction. We need to dig out the bullet and clean him up.” Mirajane’s tone made room for absolutely no nonsense. Erza’s eyes fell to her dirty hands. “Wash up,” Mirajane commanded.

           Over the sound of the sink, she heard Mirajane tell Laxus to bring, among other things, a stash of pain medications. When Erza turned around, they were alone except for Makarov in the corner, fiddling with a small pile of green crumbles. Weed. Of course.

            _“Here.”_ Mirajane’s voice grabbed her attention and she held out a pair of surgical gloves. “I don’t have good anesthetic but when we’re done Laxus can dope him up.”

            “Shouldn’t we wait until–”

            Mirajane’s eyes were a cold, terrifying blue. “We don’t have time and he’s lost too much blood. He’s dying, Erza.”

* * *

 

_Erza chewed on her thumbnail nervously. Her feet were propped on the dash of the ancient Cadillac and her toes curled and uncurled against the scorching hot pleather. The shadows in the alley shifted and her heart nearly leapt into her throat. A hand closed around her wrist and the pads of familiar fingers slid over her palm._

_“It’s just a cat,” he said softly. Erza rolled her head toward him and the fuzzy velvet-like cloth of the car seat pressed against her ear. His tone might’ve been soft but his eyes were a hard green. He was nervous, too._

_“They said noon,” she murmured. “It’s fifteen after.”_

_“Maybe it’s a test.” His grin was hollow. Erza turned her head back to the empty alley._

_“They’re fucking with you. They want to see how long you’ll wait.”_

_“Maybe.”_

_“They know the longer we sit here the more likely we are to attract attention. It’s a bullshit power play.” Her thumbnail found its way back between her teeth._

_“Hey,” Jellal said. He pulled her hand away from her mouth again. “You’re going to get worms chewing on your nails like that.”_

_A laugh bubbled up through her frustration and she smiled. “Are you channeling Sister Helena?”_

_“Maybe a little.”_

_“Do you remember that time she shaved your head because what’s-his-face had lice?”_

_“It was more of a really tight buzz cut.” Jellal’s smile turned fond. “She tried to go after your hair, too.”_

_“You were such a good fake crier,” Erza whispered._

_“I couldn’t let her do it.” He shrugged and curled the end of her ponytail around one finger. “Besides, everybody knows you can’t get rid of lice by cutting off your hair.”_

_“I think you have to shave it completely.”_

_“Even worse.” Jellal’s smile faded and she watched him carefully. “Do you miss it?” He whispered. “You could go back to the home, you know that right? The Sisters would blame me entirely and you’d be safe and maybe be adopted and –”_

_“Is that what_ you _want?” she asked carefully. “Do you want me to go back?” Her smile felt sad even as it spread across her face. “People don’t adopt almost-seventeen-year-olds.”_

_“They’d adopt_ you, _Erza.”_

_“Are you trying to tell me_ you _want to go back? Is that what this is about?”_

            _“Without you, they’d never let me in.”_

_“That’s not an answer, Jellal. I never want to go back there. Never, ever. But I’d go for you. If that’s what you want.”_

_“I –” He stopped short and his eyes cut away from hers. Erza turned her head back toward the alley and her stomach clenched._

_From the shadows strode a muscled man covered in tattoos. He wore a white tank top and navy blue work pants. Behind him was a smaller, younger man carrying two heavily taped cardboard boxes._

_“Here we go,” Jellal muttered, releasing her hair._

_The car door squeaked loudly when he swung it open and planted the soles of his boots on the pavement. His hand rested on the open window ledge for a moment after slamming it shut. Erza watched the still-pink and curling lines of his new tattoo flex as his arm muscles twitched nervously._

_“You’re late,” he said in a voice Erza knew conveyed more annoyance than he’d intended. Jellal could sometimes be impulsive and rash but when his head was clear, he was incredibly cunning and charismatic. Today, though, she didn’t think his head was altogether clear._

_The voices were muffled when Jellal popped the trunk open with another rusted squeak. Erza poked at the edge of her own tattoo that peeked from the hem of her cotton shorts. Jellal hadn’t wanted her to do it. He’d been skeptical of marking himself with the black feathers of Raventail but when Erza spoke up and slid into the chair without hesitation, he’d damn near lost his mind. Only the firm grip of Ivan Dreyar’s lackey on the back of his neck had stopped him from murdering everyone in the room._

            “What?” _Jellal’s voice cut into her thoughts and her fingernail dug painfully into the detailed edge of one black feather. She hissed and leaned against the door to hear the conversation better._

_“You’re not calling the shots, kid,” a deep voice said. “You take what I give.”_

_“That wasn’t the agreement. This is_ half.”

_“It’s what I got.”_

_Erza pursed her lips and gripped the silver door handle. It burned her fingers but she pushed the door open anyway. Her foam flip-flops made very little sound on the pavement but the door alone would’ve announced her presence._

_“We don’t take partials,” she said, flipping her sunglasses down over her eyes._

_“Erza,” Jellal bit out, clenching his jaw. “Get back in the car.”_

_She ignored him and leaned against the fender. “Stop fucking around and get the other boxes. We have a day and you’ve already kept us waiting.”_

_“Listen, red,” the muscled man said. “I don’t do business with little girls.”_

_“Why’s that?” Erza asked with a grin that she’d never dare to attempt in front of a mirror. She didn’t like remembering the woman she’d learned it from._

_Erza stepped around the larger man and his smaller companion to reach into Jellal’s pocket for the switchblade she knew he always kept on his person. She expertly flipped it open and glanced up at the man before poking at the packing tape._

_“Since you’re putting us in a real bind, I think it’s only fair to inspect what’s in here. Right? Maybe we’ll walk away from today with just a beating, yeah? Mister Dreyar is a generous guy but I want to know what I’m headed home to.” The edge of the knife sliced between the box flaps._

_Jellal stiffened beside her but the towering man with two tattoo sleeves and the promise of much more beneath his tank top balked. Then he grinned viciously._

_“You know what?” he said amiably. “You’re right, red.” The man clapped his partner on the shoulder roughly and shoved him toward the car. “Hector here ain’t real smart. He just doesn’t listen.”_

_Erza one-handedly refolded Jellal’s switchblade and slid it back into his pocket._

_“Sounds like you need better people,” she said, leaning into Jellal’s side. His arm came to loop across her shoulders, and his fingers tangled in her ponytail once more._

_“You lookin’ for a new boss, little red riding hood? I’m hiring!”_

_“No thanks. We’ll take the four boxes as promised and be out of your hair.”_

_“Sure thing.” He gripped Hector’s shoulder tightly, and Erza thought the smaller man paled. Together they disappeared back into the alley and around the shadowed corner._

_“Erza,” Jellal breathed. “What the_ fuck –”

_“He thought he was gonna rip off Ivan because we’re noobs. I told you it was a bullshit power play.” She turned to him and hooked a finger in his belt loop. “I wasn’t sure they’d cave, but it paid off, right?”_

_“You’re fearless,” he said as he leaned down to press a kiss on the curve of her neck. “I like it.”_

* * *

 

            Rain pounded the roof and thunder rattled the old windows in their frames. The second floor of the garage was decidedly less renovated than the first. Erza lit one of Jellal’s cigarettes and greedily inhaled the smoke. Her hands still shook and, even though she’d _scrubbed_ , blood still stained the undersides of her fingernails. She would never forget the way Jellal’s body twitched and shuddered as Mirajane scowled and dug around in the open hole of his shoulder. The stitching wasn’t surgical perfection but they’d removed the bullet and sewed him up.

            “Gramps will smell that shit a mile away,” Laxus said from behind her. She could hear liquor sloshing in the bottle and the clink of glass against ceramic.

            “This room reeks of weed,” she muttered. “And there’s a leak in that far window. Did you know?”

            “I don’t give a fuck, Scarlet.” Laxus took her cigarette and disappeared. She heard a toilet flush and when he returned he pressed a coffee mug of whiskey into her hand. “Renovation is its own special circle of hell. Mirajane has a brand new bathroom with a garden tub and Gramps has his own lair. Nobody uses this room.”

            Erza knocked back half the whiskey. She heard Laxus’ lighter clicking and the slow burn of vanilla infused paper he’d always preferred.

            “Here,” Laxus said tightly. The joint was sloppy but she didn’t turn him down. A cloud of thick, pungent smoke blurred her view. “How’s he doing?”

            “I don’t know.”

            He suddenly choked on the smoke, and his coughing twisted into laughter. “Did you really fucking shoot him?”

            “Yes,” she snapped, taking the joint back from him. “I had to. He’s lost his goddamn mind.”

            “He’s always been a little bit crazy,” Laxus muttered.

            “He stopped taking his meds months ago.” Erza sucked on the end of the joint until the tar burned her lips.

            “Meds? He’s on legit meds?”

            Erza passed back the joint and folded her arms across her chest defensively. _“Kind of.”_

            “So… _no_ , then?”

"There's a doctor. She used to see him when we were kids." Erza sighed heavily and let her head fall back. She stared at the stained ceiling for a very long time before deciding to unburden herself. "She testified in court the first time he was arrested. After that, she saw him a couple times a year to make sure he was stable."

            Laxus snorted and Erza couldn’t find it in herself to even be annoyed.

            “She cut him off when he started dipping into the product he was supposed to be moving.”

            “Hell of a rock and a hard place, Erza.”

            “He doesn’t trust me anymore.”

            “Why?”

            “Because I’m a fucking _narc_ ,” Erza whispered harshly. She spun around and glared up at him. “You got out. Free and fucking clear. You’re welcome, by the way!”

            “Erza–”

            “I just wanted the same for _us._ I wanted him to _finally_ have a fair shake. He _needs_ help.”

            “He’d get that in lockup.”

            _“But that’s not what I wanted!”_ She blurted. Tears leaked from her eyes and Erza swiped at them angrily.

            “What now?” Laxus asked, stoically ignoring her outburst. “You got cops on you?”

            “Not cops,” Erza hedged.

            “Fuck me,” he said with a sigh. “You made a deal with the feds. _That’s_ what this is about, isn’t it?”

            “Yes.”

            “Jesus _fuck!”_ Laxus planted his hands on his hips and glared at the window. “I’d ask what my old man did to nab the attention of the feds but I don’t want to know.”

            “Look, we’ll be out of your hair as soon as Jellal isn’t going to bust back open. I’ll handle this on my own. I gave them everything they asked for in exchange for the freedom to bring Jellal in myself.” She felt like breaking something. She felt _broken._ “I should’ve known he wouldn’t do witsec. Jesus, what was I thinking?”

            “You were thinking like somebody who has a person they love to lose,” Laxus said in a tone she knew he probably thought was soft. “I never thanked you, Scarlet.”

            “Don’t worry about it,” she muttered, feeling the pot _finally_ smooth her wrinkled edges.

            “I know what it cost you to get me and Gramps out.”

            “If Jellal doesn’t die on me, I’ll consider the debt paid.” Silence hung as heavy as the clouds outside. “For what it’s worth, Ivan didn’t hurt me. I sometimes wonder if–”

            “Don’t.” Laxus cut her off and seemed to grapple with himself before speaking again. “Don’t ever wonder about that shit. You did the work, Erza. Don’t take the blame, too. If Jellal wants to beat it out of somebody, you send him to me.”

            “He’d never lay a hand on me.” Erza pulled another cigarette from the box and twirled it between her fingers. “That’s why I made the deal, you know? I knew the only way to save him was to get rid of Ivan.” She laughed shortly and swallowed more tears. “I’ve never had the stomach for killing.”

            “You think Jellal would’ve –”

            “Yeah,” Erza whispered thickly. “Ivan was getting itchy. Jellal was stomping all over his toes. I knew I could work a deal for lesser charges and maybe witsec. Killing Ivan would’ve been a fucking big mess. I did what I had to do. If he hates me when he wakes up…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the thought.

            “Mira’s real good,” Laxus said awkwardly, clapping a hand on her shoulder. “He’ll be fine.”

            _“Fine,”_ Erza whispered. “Right.”

            Laxus cleared his throat and she heard his shoes clomping across the floor. “Mira works the graveyard. She’ll check on him in the morning when she gets back. You’re lucky you caught her on her way out tonight.”

            The door clicked shut behind him and Erza turned to watch Jellal breathing shallowly in the bed. His skin was still ghostly pale against the white sheets but he was clean and _alive._ He'd been injured before. Many, many times. As a child, he'd had a broken arm, fractured ribs, and a dislocated shoulder. The first time they'd ever met, he'd been sporting a vicious black eye – Erza could admit his scrappiness had been part of the appeal. At some point, she'd stopped worrying about him getting into fights and not being able to finish them.

And at some point, she'd started keeping an eye on him again.

            Erza padded across the room in her borrowed clothes and slid under the sheets next to Jellal as gently as possible. His brow dented and his breath hitched. She touched the edge of his jaw and realized this was the first time in _months_ they’d shared a bed. Erza gave into her despair and clutched at his arm as her tears soaked the pillow.

            “I don’t feel very lucky,” she breathed as she pressed her lips against his shoulder.

* * *

 

            The cloying scent of peach body spray dragged Erza from a deep sleep. Her eyes cracked open to see Mirajane’s skilled fingers gently reapplying Jellal’s dressings.

            “I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said in a whisper. “I just wanted to make sure everything was good. The bleeding has stopped.”

            “Thank you,” Erza mumbled, still half asleep. Mirajane smiled tiredly. The sun coming through the window was higher than Erza expected.

            “It’s _me_ who should be thanking _you,_ Erza.”

            Erza’s grin was lopsided. “Laxus has a big mouth.”

            “It’s not all bad,” Mirajane said with a smirk. “I think Jellal will be okay but I’m concerned about infection. He should be on antibiotics but I don’t have the set up for an IV here.”

            “Maybe…”

            “We’ll wake him up tonight,” Mirajane interjected quickly. “He’ll be in pain but we can curb it a little.”

            “Laxus said you were good at your job.”

            Mirajane laughed softly. “I’m _okay_ at it.”

            “Do they know you lift supplies and pills?”

            “It’s an outreach and urgent care clinic.” She reached over to brush the pads of her fingers over a loose edge of medical tape on Jellal’s chest. “I’ll write him off as a patient and nobody will question me.”

            “How’s the old man?” Erza asked.

            “He’s the same.” The smirk returned. “Cranky as ever. On good days he remembers everything. On the bad days…”

            “He pulls a shotgun on you in the hallway?” Erza asked, trying to lighten the tone. Mirajane smiled but the truth couldn’t be brushed away with a joke.

            “He won't take the Vicodin or oxy I bring him. He says they make him too itchy. There's a guy a few blocks over with a junker Laxus tears apart at least every other month. He pays for the labor in weed. When Makarov is happy, we all breathe a little easier."

            “I’m sorry for bringing my mess to your door, Mira.”

            Mirajane shook her head and stood. She collected the dirty bandages and tossed them in the bin near the door before zipping her backpack of supplies closed.

            “Don’t apologize.”

            “But –”

            “Laxus really does have a big mouth,” Mirajane whispered. “If Jellal wakes up, make him take a few of these.” She set a baggie of oblong pills on the side table along with a bottle of water. “We’ll start him on antibiotics tonight. Get some rest, okay?” Before leaving, Mirajane pulled down the window shade and took the grocery sack filled with Erza’s bloody clothing.

            Once they were alone, Erza focused on the sound of Jellal’s breathing. His chest rose and fell regularly but she knew his body was still weak. Her head pounded relentlessly. The sound of the bullet she’d fired into his chest echoed in her skull. All she could see was blood.

            Erza sat up, drew her knees against her chest, and cried. Hot tears splattered on her thighs. Breathing was hard.

            “I hate this,” she whispered, flattening her legs against the mattress. “I’ve royally fucked _everything –”_

            “No, you haven’t.” The voice wasn’t much more than the sound of a breath leaving his lungs. Erza spun around on the bed and immediately regretted jostling him. He winced.

            “I’m sorry!” Erza fawned uselessly. His grip was weak but he took her hand in his.

            “Don’t be.” He sucked in a ragged, shallow breath. “Where are we?”

            “Laxus’s garage.”

            “You move fast.” His attempt at humor was pathetic but she laughed despite her tears.

            “Mira left you some pain pills.” Erza carefully reached over him and grabbed the baggie and bottle of water. Jellal grit his teeth and attempted to sit up but couldn’t make it past a low elbow lift. “No, no, don’t. Just… here.”

            She pulled three pills from the baggie and pressed them into his palm. The sound of his teeth crunching them made her stomach turn. He took the open water bottle and tried to wash them down. Erza said nothing when he nearly collapsed onto his back after swallowing only a mouthful.

            “I’m sorry. I should’ve asked for a straw,” she said, gently wicking away the water on his chin with the sheet. His forehead beaded with new sweat and his breath was labored.

            “I’m fine.”

            “You’re _not_ fine. I _shot_ you, Jellal.” More tears slid down her cheeks and she wondered if she’d ever cried more in her life than the last two days.

            “I told you to.”

            “Since when do I listen?” She set aside the water bottle and ran her hands through his hair. “I’m so sorry. This whole fucking thing is my fault.”

Jellal's blinks were long and slow. Part of her wished he hadn't crunched through the Vicodin but she thought maybe he'd suffered enough.

            “You’ve always done what’s best, Erza. For me. For Laxus.” He took her hand again. “This time you did what was best for _you._ How can I be mad about that?”

            “You’re stoned.”

            “Yeah, but I mean it.” He sobered a little and his mouth flattened into a grim line. “I wanted to ruin him, Erza. I wanted to _ruin_ him and then _kill_ him.”

            “Ivan’s not worth that effort. I wanted you to have a chance at something else even if… even if you hated me for it all later.”

            “I could never hate you, Erza. Ivan definitely. Laxus… maybe a little. But never _you._ I only ever _loved_ you.” His sloppy smile returned and Erza couldn’t help but forgive him for all the chaos he’d caused.

            She shifted on the bed and folded her legs crosswise between them. He released her hand and the tips of his fingers traced the shape of the black Raventail feathers still inked into her thigh.

            “I never wanted Ivan to mark you, Erza. I should’ve made you go back to the home all those years ago.”

            Erza’s laugh was choked with tears. “Don’t you remember?” She asked softly, touching the feathers on his forearm. “It was never me who wanted to go back, Jellal. _I’m_ the one who wanted to stay. Maybe if I’d read between the lines…”

            “Maybe if I’d listened to you last night things would be different.” Jellal interrupted. “We could go back and forth forever. What now?”

            “I don’t know. Those agents are looking for us, I’m sure.”

            “Can they nail Ivan without you?”

            “They arrested him last night. I was supposed to bring you in myself. That was the deal.”

            “You always drove a hard bargain, Erza.”

            “I gave them everything. I promised I could bring you in and that you’d testify against Ivan if they put us in witsec.”

            “You must’ve had the real dirt.” Jellal blinked again and she wondered if he’d gone to sleep.

            “Ivan’s people are idiots when it comes to data encryption. It was an easy hack.”

            “You’re such a nerd.” His smile was loopy but the sweetest one she’d seen in what felt like an eon. Jellal weakly tugged on the hem of Mirajane’s t-shirt. “Lay down here with me.”

            She settled next to him and wished he didn’t smell so strongly of rubbing alcohol.

            “What do we do now?” He asked, his eyes drooping.

            “You shouldn’t make any decisions right now. You’re not running on all cylinders.”

            “I want _you_ to make the decisions, Erza.” He was fading. “I’m tired.” Jellal’s eyes slid shut and he fell into a, hopefully painless, sleep.

* * *

 

            _“Don’t!”_ Mirajane commanded. Jellal groaned and leaned back against the headboard of the bed, his arm cradled against his chest. “You can’t do that yet,” she said in a softer tone. “Recovering your range of motion will be important but, for fuck’s sake! Maybe wait until your stitches aren’t still fresh.”

"Sorry." Jellal's voice was winded. Erza watched him from the corner and fought off the impulse to chew her thumbnail. Instead, she twirled an unlit cigarette between her fingers.

"Just be gentle." Mirajane sat back and admired her stitching work. "It's a shame you're a criminal, Jellal," she said with humor. "I'd love to brag about this bullet hole job." She covered the wound with a new dressing and peeled off her gloves.

"Sorry, I'm wasting your talent."

            “It’s cool. I’m glad to have the experience.” She tossed away the bloody bandages. “Laxus says I’m a ghoul. Anyway, I’m gonna bring you some food and then you can start these antibiotics. I’m worried about infection.”

            “Whatever you say, Mira.”

            “You’re a great patient, Jellal. So compliant.”

            When she tied off the trash bag and left the room, Erza shoved away from the wall. She sat on the edge of the bed and fidgeted. Jellal took her hand and brought it to his lips that were still too pale for her liking.

            “You’re tense.”

            “Of course I’m tense,” she said, biting back annoyance. He’d been a scattered mess of manic chaos for what felt like an eternity. She should be _grateful_ he was calmer now. Instead, Erza was aggravated.

            “Why?”

            “Because I still don’t know what to tell the feds. They’ll track us down eventually, Jellal.”

            He sighed as deeply as he could and smiled. “Ring ‘em up, Erza. Tell them where I am. I’ll go peacefully.”

            Erza balked. “Excuse me?”

            “You know I’m fucked in the head.” His smile turned sad. “You _know_ it’s true. It’s only a matter of time before I snap out of this weird mellow place I’m in now. Then what?”

            Her mouth opened, then closed again. She had no retort.

            “I’ll say whatever they want me to in court. I’ll take the plea deal and won’t fight lockup.”

            “Jellal,” she whispered. “You _can’t_ –”

            “Let me do this, Erza. If it’s gotta be one of us, let it be me. Once I’m out it’ll be easier for me to get what I need. I can’t rely on the Porlyusica’s of the world forever.” His smile was so real and his eyes were so clear that Erza _laughed._

            “You’re crazy.”

For the first time in years, the dimple in his left cheek made an appearance. Erza thought for just a half second she could believe his yarn about going straight. He reminded her of the boy she'd fallen _so_ in love with, she’d run away with him. Over and over again, Erza had followed him _out._ First, he'd rescued her from a negligent and cruel mother. Then he'd lead her out of their empty life in a group home for abandoned children. It had been _her_ that entangled them with Raventail and Ivan Dreyar. Maybe it was time for her to let him lead again.

            Jellal was still smiling at her when she made her choice.

            Laxus interrupted the moment when he brought in a tray of food. His expression was a very typical scowl.

            “Dinner is served, Princess Fernandes,” he muttered, leaving the tray on the side table. “Mira said to take the anti-b’s first.”

            Unlike Mirajane, Laxus didn’t shut the door quietly. Erza watched Jellal swallow the pills and pick at his food before standing. Jellal let her go without a word.

            Outside the bedroom, Erza ran her fingertips along the freshly painted walls. She took the stairs slowly and the scent of spaghetti sauce made her stomach rumble as she passed the kitchen. The feeling quickly turned to dread as she crossed the cavernous garage and slipped into Laxus’s office. He turned away from his laptop and quirked an eyebrow.

            “You got a phone?” she asked as lightly as possible. “I need to make a call.”

            Laxus pulled an older model mobile phone from a desk drawer and tossed it to her. He said nothing as she turned to leave. The bay door was half open and she easily ducked under it. Erza pulled a cigarette from her jacket pocket and lit it before punching in a number she’d memorized. A rough voice answered after only two rings.

            “Cheney.”

            “Hey, it’s me,” she said blowing out the smoke. “There’s been a change of plans.”


	3. Chapter 3

_iii._

* * *

 

            Erza wasn’t allowed in the courtroom. The hearing was heavily guarded and it was three hours before Agent Eucliffe emerged from inside. He grinned at her in the way she’d hated the instant they’d met. Erza much preferred dealing with Agent Cheney.

            “Surprised you’re still here, Scarlet,” he said in a disgustingly casual tone.

            “I’m not,” Agent Cheney said, following him out of the courtroom. “The street outside’s crowded with fucking cameras. You can come out back with us.”

            “I want to see him,” Erza said, standing. The heels pinched her toes but she wasn’t about to look anything but perfectly polished on one of the most important days of her life.

            “No,” Agent Eucliffe clipped.

            “I can arrange that,” Agent Cheney interjected smoothly. “It’ll be short.”

            “That’s fine,” Erza said, stuffing away her nerves. She ignored the glare Agent Eucliffe shot his partner and followed Agent Cheney down the long, wide hallway lined with courtrooms. They bypassed the main entrance and Agent Cheney pressed a plastic card to a security panel outside a heavy, armored door. This hallway was smaller and opened up to a reception area.

            “You here for Fernandes?” The guard behind the desk asked, glancing at Erza.

            “His wife wants to see him,” Agent Cheney said. Erza’s eye twitched at the lie but she didn’t correct him.

            “She’s got less than ten minutes. They’re loading everybody up soon.”

            “Understood.”

            The door beside the desk clicked loudly and Erza’s heart skipped a painful beat. Agent Cheney opened the door and grasped her arm. His eyes were hard.

            “Ten minutes in room four. Don’t even think about bolting. We still have business to take care of.”

            “Of course.” A more snide answer tickled the back of her throat but Erza let it go. She stepped into the tiled hallway and the door slammed shut behind her. She jumped when the lock clicked again.

            Jellal waited for her in room four with his hands cuffed together. A brooding guard shut the door behind him and finally, they were alone. Erza rushed at him and ignored the way he flinched at the force of her embrace.

            “Hey, hey,” he gasped. “Still healing over here.”

            “Sorry, I’m so sorry, Jellal.” Erza dried her tears on his jumpsuit shoulder. “Are you okay?”

            “Yeah.” He stepped back and raised his hands to touch the mass of scarlet hair that hung over her shoulder. “Mira’s a good nurse. The doctor was impressed.”

            “The _prison_ doctor, you mean,” Erza said sorrowfully. “This was a mistake. I should never –”         

            “Yes, you should’ve,” he said softly. “My shoulder’s gonna be fine. I’m seeing a head doctor once I’m transferred.”

            “Oh, Jellal. How –”

            “This is federal stuff, Erza,” he whispered. “It’s not a county jail, okay? I got a really sweet deal, all things considered.”

            “Four years isn’t a sweet deal, Jellal,” Erza said firmly. “Eucliffe fucked me over because he’s a childish dick. It was supposed to be eighteen months.”

            “It’s fine, love,” Jellal said, leaning in to kiss to her cheek. His hand closed around the side of her shirt and he suddenly pressed his lips against her ear. “Twenty-seven thirty-two Chester.”

            “What?” Erza breathed, her heart racing. “What –”

            _“Twenty-seven thirty-two Chester,”_ he whispered again emphatically. “There’s a great spot for bird watching there.”

            The door swung open with a loud buzz and the brooding guard reappeared. He wrapped his hand around Jellal’s bicep.

            “But –” Erza sputtered.

            “You’ll love it,” Jellal said with a grin, allowing the guard to lead him away. “Find your zen, Erza. Promise me you’ll visit.”

            “I promise,” she whispered even after the door shut behind the guard.

* * *

 

            Twenty-seven thirty-two Chester turned out to be an address in a neighborhood Erza recognized. Chester Boulevard was a street she and Jellal used to stroll up and down after evening Mass. The sidewalks were lined with wrought iron gates and waist-high brick walls. As a young girl, she’d been romanced by the aesthetic. The years had taken their toll on Chester Boulevard, though. Long rows of brick walls had crumbled and the iron gates, rusted.

            The house she was looking for still had its canary yellow siding and white shutters. Her flowerbeds were long abandoned and the blue and purple hydrangea bushes Erza had loved as a child were now wild and unkempt. The gate squealed as she pushed it open and wandered through the front garden. She gazed up at the defunct weathervane mounted on the foremost gable and sighed.

            “What the fuck, Jellal?”

            Erza nudged a few pebbles from the uneven brick path with the toe of her shoe as she circled the house. The back garden was worse than the front. Weeds ran wild and a patch of what looked like pumpkins had taken over the east corner.

            Almost ready to give up, Erza, turned to face the house. On the far corner of the ruined patio just past the planters of weed-choked rose bushes was a stately birdbath. The concrete cherub pouring his empty pot of water into a basin was missing half his face and someone had spray painted a dick and balls on his fat thigh. Erza pursed her lips and inspected the birdbath. It sat crookedly on a pedestal that couldn’t have been more than a foot high. On impulse, she kicked the basin. With an ungraceful wobble, the basin slid over and threatened to take the pedestal with it. At the last second, the pedestal cracked in half to reveal a core filled with nothing but sand.

At first, she wondered how on earth such a shoddy pedestal had managed to hang onto the heavy basin for so many years. And then she saw it. The base of the pedestal was filled with landscaping rocks all painted yellow – the same yellow as the vandalized cherub. Erza crouched and began to dig them out.

            Buried at the bottom of what felt like a million little, yellow rocks was a duffle bag. It had been jammed tightly into a hole Erza suspected had been dug specifically to be hidden by the pedestal base. The fabric was dirty but mostly intact. Inside was an industrial grade vacuum-sealed bag filled with cash. The stacks were neat and tidy. They reflected a more clearly thinking Jellal. _This_ Jellal had planned ahead.

            “Holy wow,” Erza breathed. She glanced around the garden and quickly shoved the brick of cash back into the duffle bag.

            It would be four years before she could safely ask Jellal about the stash but she couldn’t leave him wondering. Two weeks later, when she had a proper address for him, Erza bought a package of postcards and a book of stamps. She scrawled out a quick _‘I love you’_ on the one printed with a pair of canaries and dropped it in the mail.

* * *

 

_Three years and three hundred sixty-three days later…_

* * *

 

            Erza popped her gum and checked the face of her phone. She sighed. They were already six minutes late. She’d wanted to be back on the highway before sunset but the punctuality of prison guards was apparently subjective.

            A loud series of clangs echoed off the cement walls and rattled the lengths of chain link fencing. Finally, the gate lined with razor wire began to inch open. Erza popped her gum again and leaned back against the hood of the Cadillac. A gust of hot wind lifted her hair and blew it off her shoulders.

            Armed guards marched a group of parolees dressed in wrinkled civilian clothes out from the bowels of the prison. Erza grinned when a familiar head of hair came into view. He smiled at her and the dimple she’d loved for most of her life crinkled the tattoo scrawled over half his face. Jellal broke away from the group and joined her on the hood of the Cadillac.

            “Hey, pretty boy, lookin’ for a date?” she asked with a grin.

            “I don’t know, my girlfriend’s got a way with guns.”

            Erza laughed and felt the weight of nearly four years slide off her shoulders. She took his hand and pulled him around the side of the car as the prison bus rumbled to life. Jellal tossed his bag into the trunk before falling into the passenger seat. Erza found him still grinning when she slid behind the wheel.

            “I took your advice, by the way,” she said flipping her sunglasses down from the top of her head. “Bird watching is _great_ for zen.”

            Jellal laughed and propped his elbow on the window ledge of the car.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! It's well known I have trouble letting go of things (See: Mercutio and Starboy and that whole... thing) and here we are again.
> 
> The main body of _Out of the Badlands_ is complete to me. It has a beginning and an end and I'm still quite pleased with it. This is extra. A garnish, if you will. I implied Erza pulled some strings with Ivan to get Laxus, Makarov, and Mirajane away from Raventail. Here is that story. This takes place approximately two years before the events of the main story. **It is dark. It touches on some super heinous things.** But I think this AU's Erza deserves to have her story told. If you ever wondered what pushed her to shoot Jellal in a fit of desperation to get him away from the life they'd built together... you might find that here. I hope so.

            “Out?” Jellal’s expression was incredulous. “But why?”

            Erza shrugged noncommittally. She flipped a page in her book and didn’t glance up at all until she was sure his back was turned. The smoke of his cigarette curled over and in on itself before he stood and pushed the window open. Within seconds a flurry of snow danced into the room. The glittering flakes never stood a chance against the blast of the heater.

            “Laxus is a dumbass.” Unbothered by the cold, Jellal stuck his hand out into the night and flicked the ash from his cigarette.

            “He’s got his own priorities. That doesn’t make him a dumbass.”

            “He’s Ivan’s _son.”_

            Erza felt the weight of his gaze but refused to meet it. She turned the page of her book again even though she was no longer reading.

            “He’s untouchable,” Jellal went on. “If I had that kind of privilege –”

            “That’s bullshit and you know it.” Frustrated, Erza tossed aside her book. The chill in the air seemed to suit Jellal’s mood. It hadn’t escaped her notice that _everything_ served his moods lately. “Laxus isn’t untouchable. You _know_ that.”

            “All he’s gotta do is wait for his old man to die.”

            “It’s more complicated than that. Can’t you at least _try_ to understand?”

            He stared at her and sucked his cigarette all the way down to the filter before tossing the still burning cherry out the window. “Understand what?”

            “Makarov is… not well.”

            “He’s old. So what?”

            “You’re being intentionally dense, Jellal. Let me know when you’re ready to have an actual conversation.” Erza threw the blankets off her legs and left him alone in the bedroom.

            The soles of her feet protested the cold tile flooring of the bathroom. Erza switched on the hot water and waited for the steam to rise before washing her hands. She didn’t really need to wash – she’d only just bathed earlier that evening – but Jellal had annoyed her.

            Makarov Dreyar wasn’t just _old_ he was showing signs of Alzheimer’s. When Erza had seen him last, his hands were gnarled with arthritis and he didn’t recognize her until she’d dropped a kiss on his wrinkled cheek just before leaving. Makarov had always been kind to her even before the black Raventail feathers were etched into her thigh – it pained her heart to see him so afflicted and lost.

            Laxus wanted to pull the old man out and despite Jellal’s musings, Erza knew Laxus wasn’t Ivan’s heir apparent. That much had been clear to her years before when Ivan chose Laxus for Jellal’s initiation jump. He’d been curious about the boy who was so eager to please and never shied away from violence when called for. As expected, Jellal didn’t take his beating lying down. He fought back. _Hard._ Both had walked away with bloody fists. Jellal suffered three fractured ribs, and Laxus a broken nose. In the end, neither won Ivan’s favor. Not _really._ He wasn’t looking for a successor; he was sizing up the _competition._

            Unlike Laxus, Jellal had ambition. To a man like Ivan, Jellal was dangerous. He inspired a kind of loyalty in the people beneath him that Ivan would never be able to replicate. This was Jellal’s _unforgivable_ offense against the feathers. His hatred of Jellal was not a secret but never quite bubbled to the surface in full force. Erza knew he would never have Jellal’s throat slit in their bed or shot in the street. That would be far too easy and cowardly for a man in his position. Ivan needed to _crush_ him publicly. Taking Jellal out would be a spectacle and opportunity to make a point. Ivan loved setting examples.

            Jellal knew all this and still showed up to every meeting and every party. He shook Ivan’s hand and let them retouch his feathers – even let them add new ones reflecting his rank within Raventail. At the same time, Ivan clipped away at Jellal’s ever-growing wingspan, and in retaliation, Jellal inched further and further into Ivan’s territories with his own deals and lines of contact. Something ugly was on the horizon. It crackled in the air like the half seconds right before lightning struck.

            “I’m sorry.” Jellal’s voice behind her was soft. Not _penitent_ but soft. “I don’t want to fight about this.”

            Erza glanced up at his reflection in the mirror. Even with circles under his eyes and perpetually tousled hair, she thought him beautiful. There’d always been something ethereal and raw about Jellal. His glow wasn’t angelic in the way that brought to mind images of cherubs with harps and diapers tied in bows. Jellal was a _warrior._ His wings, no matter how filthy, clipped or bloody were magnificent and terrifying.

            Erza reached for a towel and dried her hands. When she turned to him, she folded her arms across her chest. She watched him leaning against the doorframe for a long moment. He’d brought the cold air with him but somehow the steam from the hot water clashing with the winter outside only added to his appeal.

            Erza took the two steps across the bathroom floor and touched the waistband of his pants. Her fingers quickly dipped into his pocket and pulled out the baggie of white powder she knew he’d pinched from the brick in his desk drawer – _another_ thing that exhausted her. His grin was sharp and, despite everything, Erza wanted to throw herself on the blade.

            “You want a hit?”

            “Less talking,” she whispered, rising up on her toes to kiss him. Erza had been kissing Jellal since before they’d run away from the _Sisters of Charity Home for Children._ The first few had been awkward but he was a fast learner. Even after seven years of bloody knuckles, tattoos, switchblades, and stolen cars he still kissed her as if she were the _most important_ thing in his life.

            Erza’s grip tightened around the baggie when his palms found her hips. She hooked her fingers through his belt loops and pushed against him.

            “Go close the window. It’s fucking cold.”

            Jellal smiled against her lips and squeezed her middle before obeying her. When the wind was throwing itself against the window glass once more, Erza shook the contents of the baggie out onto the glass tray Jellal kept for the exact purpose of snorting lines. He’d never tried to keep his habits a secret from her but they had yet to address the brick in his office. She wasn’t even sure _how._ Making side deals to spite Ivan in the shop was one thing. Intercepting and moving blow was quite another.

            She felt his bare chest against her back and his hands on her shoulders. Erza’s lines were neater than Jellal’s. She took her time to cut the strands and clumps into something nearly flawless. His fingers slid beneath the straps of her camisole and drew small circles in the indents of her shoulder. When she took the glass tube between her fingers and bent down to take the first hit, she felt him pressing into her backside.

            The rush came after only half a second and she leaned against him before passing him the tube. His arm snaked around her waist and his fingers dipped into her panties when he took his own hit. Glass clinked against glass and mussed the remaining two lines when he let the tube fall from between his fingers. The hand not between her legs curved around her neck and grasped her chin.

            Jellal’s kiss was a wild, barely constrained thing. The room spun and Erza along with it. She pushed him back toward the bed and somewhere in between her camisole disappeared. His pants fell to the floor and the room started to spin again. It didn’t stop until her back hit the mattress. He kissed her mouth only once before moving down her body. Erza felt his tongue on the tips of her breasts, her navel, and finally between her thighs. The room pulsed and throbbed. He always knew exactly what she liked and where.

            She took him on his back and enjoyed the power. Jellal wouldn’t roll over for anyone but her. Erza’s fingernails dug into his chest and he hissed. The black and white fairy woman he’d added to his right pectoral a week before seemed to come alive. She rippled and flexed with every twitch of muscle. Jellal’s hands slid over her thighs and hips. His skin was rough from doing rough work. She took his wrist and kissed the permanently scarred flesh of his knuckles before guiding him down to where she needed his touch the most.

            Erza’s climax left her thighs and stomach quivering. She slid off his still hard cock and left a trail of sloppy kisses on his chest from the fairy woman’s crown of thorns to the tip of his erection. Her eyes stayed on him even when his own slid shut. Erza took him all the way to the back of her throat and squeezed him at the base. When he came it was controlled and restrained – she knew he held himself back because he wasn’t done with her yet.

            She took her second hit of the night with the glass tray on his chest. Jellal’s eyes were wide and wild. He flipped her to her stomach and fucked her with barely checked abandon. His fingers brought her to the edge three times before she finally tumbled over. He gripped her hair and left a bite on her shoulder she knew would bruise. Everything spun.

            Maybe the drugs weren’t so bad. Maybe Jellal would have the control he wanted and things would level out. When the glass tray was clean and they were spent, Jellal pressed a wet kiss to the curve of her neck and pulled her back against him. Erza squeezed her eyes shut and tried to sleep but found only darkness.

* * *

 

            Makarov’s fingers were steady – an uncommon thing as of late. Erza watched him roll a joint with practiced ease. The smoke was pungent, familiar, and soothing. Mirajane appeared in the doorway with a cup of water and a closed fist. Makarov eyed her skeptically.

            “I’m not thirsty.”

            “You can’t take these dry,” she said softly, closing his paper tin and setting the cup on the tea table beside him.

            “I don’t want any of that. I feel good today.”

            Mirajane smiled and folded herself into the enormous Lay-Z-Boy that belonged to Laxus. “Do I need to tie you down and force you?”

            “I might not hate that.”

            Erza snorted and Mirajane laughed. “I bet Laxus would, though.”

            “He’s no fun anymore.”

            “He cares about you. Please take the pills? The temperature is dropping tonight and your joints will thank you.”

            Makarov sighed and sucked on his joint. Erza knew he’d never _truly_ resist Mirajane. Not like he resisted and fought with Laxus. Erza turned to leave the room when he held out a hand for the pills. She found Laxus on the back stoop with a cold beer and cigarette. From her coat pocket, she pulled her own pack and tapped one out. The smoke was hot in her lungs.

            “He looks good today,” Erza muttered, noting that the bright purple nail polish on her forefinger was chipped.

            “He looks like shit.” Laxus took a pull off his bottle. “Did Mira get him to take anything?”

            “I think so.”

            “Stubborn bastard. Never does a damn thing I tell him to.”

            Erza laughed and flicked ash into the pile of snow on the other side of the rail. “Maybe you should try asking instead of telling.”

            “You do much askin’ with Fernandes?” Laxus drawled.

            “No.” Erza hugged her knees to her chest and watched her cigarette burn.

            “Didn’t think so.”

            The silence between them was frigid. Erza took a deep breath. “I want to help.”

            Laxus snorted and tossed his beer bottle into the bin nearly buried in snow. She heard the glass crash against other empty bottles. “You can’t.”

            “I think I can.” Erza picked at the chipped fingernail polish and a fleck of live ash landed on her thumb. It burned but she didn’t flick it away.

            “Let me handle my old man. He’ll cave eventually.”

            “Do you really think that’s true?” The question hung in the cold air like the smoke from their cigarettes.

            “No.”

            “Then let me help you. Ivan just needs the right offer.”

            “What the fuck do you know about it?” He finally turned to her with an expression as hard as ice. “Do you know what he wants? What men like him always want?”

            “Control,” Erza said with an ease that didn’t reach her heart.

            _“Blood.”_

            “He wants power. Something to hold over someone else’s head.” She met his eyes but didn’t flinch. “I can make an offer he’ll like.”

            “Goddamn it, Scarlet. You can’t –”

            “Even Jellal doesn’t tell me what I can and can’t do.” She delivered her words quietly but Laxus was smart. He knew a threat when he heard one.

            “What’s Fernandes gonna think about all this?”

            “I’m a big girl, Laxus. I can do what I want. Ivan can’t hold anything over me if I chose it myself.”

            “He won’t see it that way. You _know_ that.” Laxus flicked his spent cigarette into the snow and fully turned toward her. “What kind of deal are you thinking?”

            Erza shrugged. “He’s never respected me. Not really. I can play on that.”

            “He’ll kill you.”

            “He won’t. You remember last winter at that party?”

            “The one with all the shitty gold balloons and paid girls? Yeah.”

            “He’d been drinking and whatever else.”

            “Everybody was fucked up that night,” Laxus muttered.

            “Not me.” Erza’s eyes slid to the right. She gazed beyond the iced-over tree in Laxus’s backyard and got lost in a churning cloud of gold balloons, champagne, and the cloying scent of Ivan's cologne mingling with sweat. "He cornered me in the kitchen."

            “There was a lot of staff that night.”

            She shrugged again. “He didn’t seem to notice. He grabbed my ass and pressed his dick into my hip.”

            “Jesus Christ.”

            “He wants to fuck me.” Erza tore her eyes away from the tree and stared hard at Laxus. “What if I let him?”

            “No.”

            “It’s not a big deal.”

            “Are you fucking joking?” Laxus leaned forward and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Please tell me you’re yanking my chain.”

            “If I gave him one night wherein he thinks he’s getting one over on Jellal, he might let you go.”

            “He won’t.”

            “Frankly, Laxus, it’s not much of a loss. You don’t even do anything anymore. Your feathers are for show at this point. He’s just being a petty bitch because it would make him look weak if you and Makarov walked out.”

            “This is the stupidest fucking conversation we’ve ever had. Go home.”

            Erza ignored him and went on. “But if he thought he had something on _Jellal,_ he might be willing to take that loss.”

            “Absolutely not.”

            “Consider it a personal favor and you’ll just owe me one.”

            “Scarlet –”

            “Look,” Erza snapped. “I get you, okay? I know what it’s like to see someone you love… out of control.”

            Laxus pursed his lips and stayed silent. She didn’t need to tell him what she meant. Everybody knew Jellal’s mercurial nature and how volatile he could be when pushed. Erza and Laxus understood one another in that way. Holding someone else’s leash was a never-ending emotional, and sometimes physical, war. When Laxus spoke again, his tone was one of defeat.

            “Even if my dad lets me take Gramps and Mira out of town, Jellal will hunt me down and skin me alive.”

            “Don’t worry about Jellal. I’ll handle him.”

            “You can’t handle them both, Scarlet.”

            “Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do.” Erza stood and shoved her hands into her coat pockets. “I won’t say it again.”

            She left Laxus on the frozen stoop and headed back to her car for the day. It wasn’t hers – none of them were.

* * *

 

            The light of the setting sun was crawling across the kitchen floor when the face of Erza’s phone lit up. She set aside her glass and scrolled through the brief text messages. There was a hotel address and a room number. Ivan moved fast.

            “What’s up?” Jellal asked, from behind her. His hands covered her shoulders and he left a kiss behind her ear. She didn’t even try to hide the texts.

            “Just a favor for Laxus.”

            “Mm.” His fingers slid through her hair but he said nothing else.

            “I won’t be home tonight,” she whispered, setting aside the phone. Erza spun around and watched him watching her. They had the act of silent conversation nailed down to an art form.

            “I trust you,” he finally said before leaving her alone in the kitchen.

            Erza showered and shaved and slathered her skin in the scented lotion she knew Jellal hated. She needed the lines and boundaries – even if no one else saw them but her.

            He watched her dress from the bed and didn’t offer to zip or button anything. When she left him he was digging in the side table for the baggies she knew he kept there. Erza didn’t reassure him and he didn’t tell her to be safe. The only sound in the room was the click of her heels and the sharp intake of Jellal’s breath.

* * *

 

            Erza didn’t need to guess. The black car idling at the end of the block had been sent by Ivan. The leather inside was warm and the driver was silent. Her phone vibrated in her coat pocket but Erza glanced only once at Laxus’s angry messages before turning it off entirely.

            The hotel was nice. _Too_ nice. She’d half expected Ivan to secure a room at a trashy motel to make a point of what he thought she was worth. The marble floors sparkled and the furniture was plush. Erza didn’t care for the show of finery. She headed straight for the concierge and took the key card waiting for her.

            Despite her cool exterior, Erza felt eyes on her back as she faced the brushed gold doors of the elevators. She thought to give them something to look at and shed her coat. The black dress was scandalously short and her heels dangerously high. The only thing she hoped to keep to herself was her hair. It was pinned in a tight coil to the back of her head – she didn't want Ivan's fingers in it. Some things were sacred.

            Ivan’s room was on the very top floor. A man stood outside the room with a barely concealed G26 at his hip. Erza rolled her eyes and slid the key card into the slot. He didn’t stop her from entering the room and she immediately put him out of her mind when the door clicked shut.

            The room was mostly dark except for the bedside lamps. Ivan lounged in a chair near the tall set of windows overlooking the city. He had a glass in his hand half filled with something amber – probably scotch. Jellal hated scotch.

            Erza left her coat on the rack and crossed the room at a meandering pace. She didn’t join Ivan in the small circle of chairs and, instead, leaned against the far window frame.

            "Did he say anything to you?" Ivan finally asked. The diamonds inlaid on the face of his watch winked in the low light. “Leaving that dump of a house dressed like you are?”

            She didn’t consider his words. They were meant to be barbs but she wouldn’t allow him to pierce her – not like that. Not now.

            “He doesn’t ask me those kinds of questions.” Erza finally turned her eyes on him. Ivan raised one eyebrow and polished off the remains of his glass. He left it on the low tabletop and stood. She didn't watch him approach; instead, she focused on the city lights beyond the window.

            His touch was cold and his breath reeked of scotch. Erza wanted to vomit. The hard voice in her head – the one that guided her fingers through a perfect twirl of a switchblade – told her to suck it up. She’d made a big girl deal, and she’d follow through all the way to the end.

            “What will you do?” he asked, his breath fanning over her neck.

            Erza swallowed her bile and met his eyes. “What do you want?”

            Ivan grinned and traced the bust line of her dress and the curve of her hip. He hooked his finger under the hem at her thighs.

            “Take it off.” His smile curled into something grotesque as she reached behind her to tug at the zipper she’d pulled up herself not an hour before. Ivan’s eyes followed the silk all the way to the floor before his hands were on her body.

            He touched her with cruel, invasive fingers and watched her closely all the while. Erza never flinched even a little. When he released her and pulled his belt loose, she felt her skin harden and her mind slip into something old. Something that smelled of five-dollar vodka and cheap cologne. If she tried _very_ hard she could hear the soft breaths of her unconscious mother echoing in her memory. These hands were the same but different. She told herself Ivan wasn’t _taking_ anything from her. She _allowed_ him in her mouth and in her body. It wasn’t a _violation_. It was an _agreement._ Men couldn’t take advantage of her if she let them in herself.

            In her mind, Ivan never touched the parts of her that mattered.

* * *

 

            She left Ivan smoking in a hotel bed without a word. Before the black car left her on the corner, her phone lit up with a text message from Laxus.

            _‘I owe you more than one.’_

            Erza didn’t respond. She took the half block back to the house she shared with Jellal barefoot. The concrete was frigid and stung her feet but Erza wanted to feel it. She _needed_ to feel something _else._

            The house was empty but not cold. She left her coat on the rack and her dress in the kitchen garbage. By the time she made it to the bedroom, Erza was naked. She headed straight for the bath. The hot water would scald her skin but she needed to feel this too. After scrubbing her teeth, tongue, and swallowing a cap of mouthwash, she eased her body into the bath.

            Erza folded her arms on the edge of the tub and watched the rivulets of water drip from the tips of her fingers to the floor. Her eyes flit from the chipped paint of the floorboards to the faded linoleum. She’d never thought of their house as anything other than home but Ivan had insulted it. The cold voice in her head insisted he would never be able to insult a thing he didn’t understand unless she let him. She let him fuck her but not _take_ from her.

            When Jellal’s bare feet came into view, the water was no longer uncomfortably hot. The early morning sun could be seen beyond the doorway. Erza’s eyes slid up his body and skipped right over the black feathers inked into his arm. His expression was mostly blank but his hands were balled in his pockets and his eyes were soft. Erza said nothing and he finally disappeared into their bedroom.

            She dressed in flannel pajamas she rarely ever wore but the urge to cover her body couldn’t be denied. Jellal waited for her on the edge of the bed. He had her hairbrush in his hands. Erza sat between his knees on the hardwood floor. His brush strokes were gentle and she metered her breaths to match. Exhale on the downstroke; inhale when the bristles touched the top of her head.

            As she picked at the satin ribbon sewn into the hem of her pants, words built up on her tongue. She swallowed them all and focused on Jellal’s fingers in her hair. He was skilled with braids but ultimately left everything loose.

            Suddenly, Jellal slid off the bed and crouched on the balls of his feet in front of her. He touched her cheeks and her chin and her neck but didn’t move beyond her pajamas. When he leaned close, Erza’s eyes fluttered closed. His lips were soft against her forehead.

            The kiss was almost nothing but meant _everything._


End file.
